(Continued from Songs of Wine and Home)

Mat stood in front of the commune, watching as a group of people were busy splashing petrol onto the warehouse walls. Doorways had been barred up and guarded, making sure nobody got in or out. All of the people, men and women, wore balaclavas around their faces, as well as identical T-shirts all with the same anti-mutant sentiment printed on front.

Mat stood, and he watched.

The sound of quiet footsteps came from behind him. Not bothering to check and see who it was, Mat waited for them to fall in line. He felt the person settle in next to him, assumed they were watching this as well. The person gave a gurgling cough, as though their lungs were filled with fluid.

“You know what's going to happen, right?” The voice was high, feminine. That of a teenage girl.

Mat said nothing, simply continued watching.

“You're not going to do anything to stop them?

The people surrounding the warehouse tossed away their jerry-cans. Mat saw several of them pull a box of matches out, lighting the boxes up. Flames met petrol, and soon the fire had sprung up around the building and in front of doorways.

“Right, what could you possibly do to stop them?” The voice had taken on a spiteful tone. Screams were beginning to sound from inside the commune.

Mat felt the presence of the person standing next to him shift, as they started walking away. A small, teenage girl in a summery dress was making her way to the burning warehouse, dark hair cascading down her back. She stopped just short of the fire and turned to face Mat, her face twisted into an ugly sneer.

“You couldn't even save me, could you Mat?” His sister's icy glare cut through him, made him wither inside. She took a step backwards, engulfing herself in the flames that were now covering the commune. She began to laugh, a cold and ugly sound that grated against the ear. Her laughs mingled with the screams of those dying inside, creating a ghastly harmony.

Mat could only watch, as Lily burned along with the friends he loved.

He awoke, thrashing, with a scream. Not the small, startled yelp that often accompanied his waking, but a full, terrified scream. When his skull tightened, and his stomach lurched in protest, Mat slumped back and took several long, gasping breaths. He was dying. Had to be.

Three things came to his immediate attention. Firstly, he felt like hell. His muscles and bones ached, his head was throbbing with an gigantic migraine. His face felt like it had been planted into a brick wall, nose tender to the touch. He could feel various cuts and grazes on his face, which lent credence to the brick wall theory. And his stomach, well, it was all he could manage not to throw up all over himself.

Secondly, the smell of whiskey and liquor clung very tightly to himself. Which would explain the sickness and the pain.

And thirdly, Mat had no idea where the hell he was. He was laying on a couch, in the middle of some enormous living room. Christmas decorations dangled from several walls. A tree was set up to one side, shining and sparkling with festive cheer. A fire roared away in a fireplace, keeping the room a stifling temperature.

And standing in a doorway, watching him with curiosity, were a group of kids whispering amongst one another. One, Mat noticed, looked very much like a lobster. Mutant kids? Mat felt his stomach heave, and he gave a small, dry retch.

Where the hell had he woken up?

There was something interesting happening in the living room.

Gemma spent most of the morning walking around, picking up after the children; during the holidays, much more than the usual amount of random stuff got left lying around in the common rooms, and she just couldn't watch garbage piling up everywhere. She took down a few decorations that were starting to look less cheerful.

There was a small group of students staring at something from the living room door.

"Shoo" Gemma smiled, pushing them aside to look in "There is nothing to see here. Go play somewhere else."

Those kids who might have mistaken her kind words for a suggestion knew better when they looked in her eyes. The group of kids skittered away to play somewhere else.

"What do we have here..." she arched her eyebrow and walked in until she was standing over the couch, looking down at an obviously hung over person who did not look familiar at all, and that meant in her book that he did not belong there. Not on the couch, not in the Mansion.

"I do hope you did not leave any booze lying around" she noted, looking down at him.

>>> "Shoo...There is nothing to see here. Go play somewhere else."

Mat glanced over to the doorway, towards the strange voice. A woman's voice. It wasn't a voice he recognised, so chances were he hadn't crashed in one of his usual haunts. A quick look around at the place, strongly confirmed that notion. This place was much too nice for him. He heard the pattering of little footsteps, and assumed that the children had run off to do whatever this voice had commanded.

Some kind of matriarch, perhaps?

>>> “What do we have here...”

A shadow fell over Mat's prone form, to which he threw a glance upwards. A woman was looking down on him. An upside-down woman, with very dark skin and an expression that didn't make him feel very welcome. Wherever he was.

>>> “I do hope you did not leave any booze lying around.”

Mat craned his neck up and looked around his immediate area. Despite the prevalent smell of booze, Mat couldn't see any bottles or cans lying around, which told his groggy mind that he may have done his drinking off-site. Wherever that was. The action made his head throb and his gut churn, so he slumped his head back down.

“If I did, you'd probably have a better idea of where it is than I do right now,” he croaked. Mat couldn't even recall why he had been drinking. Apart from the drinks he had had at Mute's warehouse, Mat hadn't gotten drunk in months. If he had to hazard a guess, it was probably in order to help him sleep. It seemed the only reason he would have. He doubted it was to celebrate, and he didn't have any friends to get drunk with socially like he used to.

Not like he had much reason to celebrate these days.

>>“If I did, you'd probably have a better idea of where it is than I do right now,”

"You are in the Mansion, better known as Xavier's Sister School for Gifted Youngsters." Gemma told him, sitting on the edge of the couch "it is a school for mutants, as you probably already noticed." she nodded towards the door where the bunch of weird-looking kids had just disappeared.

"So, I don't suppose you remember how you got in." she sighed, looking at the young man "That's a pity. Anyhow. My name is Gemma Taylor, and I am the guidance counselor here."

He looked... lost. Confused. And hung over.
That was a sight she'd seen plenty of times before.

"Let's go to the kitchen, I'll get you something to eat and drink, and hopefully make you feel better. I'd have to let you throw up on the couch." she said finally; there was really not much else to offer. She stood, holding her hand out to him.

>>> "You are in the Mansion, better known as Xavier's Sister School for Gifted Youngsters...it is a school for mutants, as you probably already noticed."

A school? He had gotten wasted...and ended up...in a school? A school for mutants?

Seriously?

Did she say this place was a mansion?

The woman sat on the edge of the couch, swimming in his upside down vision. She had a look about her. No nonsense. Someone who wasn't willing to let minor transgressions, like inebriated private school-crashing from a passing vagrant, go. That kind of person.

Like a mum.

>>> “So, I don't suppose you remember how you got in.”

Mat scratched his head and ran his hand gingerly over his tender face. He wasn't sure how bad it looked, but it felt like hell. Wouldn't surprise him if he had a broken nose. A pained wince escaped his lips as he prodded a little too hard. “Unless I had a burning desire to become a school boy again and somehow re-enrolled... I dare say I wandered in from the neighbourhood somehow. Which ever neighbourhood this is.” A wave of nausea passed over him, and Mat gave a sickly groan. “You guys lock your doors at night?,” he asked sarcastically. A hacking cough racked his body. “I have no idea how I got in, lady.”

>>> "That's a pity. Anyhow. My name is Gemma Taylor, and I am the guidance counselor here."

Mat eyed her suspiciously for a moment, squinting against the light of the room. Something about hearing that she was a guidance counsellor brought up all kinds of suspicions. Was she going to start telling how he should be living his life? How his current lifestyle was not how sensible human beings should live?

>>> "Let's go to the kitchen, I'll get you something to eat and drink, and hopefully make you feel better. I'd have to let you throw up on the couch."

She held out a hand to help Mat up. He glanced up at it with one eye before pushing himself upright, ever so slowly. Not that he was snubbing her. It's just that any unexpected movement was likely to cause her fears to come true. And the couch didn't deserve that. No part of him was being spiteful, being obstinate. He wasn't putting up the defensive front of someone who had been sprung red-handed. No way.

Maybe a little obstinate...

Slowly, he rose to his feet. The world was unsteady under his feet. He wrestled with his balance, until finally he felt he was unlikely to collapse in a heap. Walking would be a whole different challenge.

“Lead the way, counsellor lady Gemma.”

>>“Lead the way, counsellor lady Gemma.”

He stood, and despite her expectations, he remained standing. That was a good start. Gemma smiled and turned around, leading him to the kitchen, only glancing back every once in a while to make sure he did not collapse.

"We have locked doors and other security measures" she smirked "Somebody must have let you in. I'm going to need to talk to them about allowing drunk strangers into the school."

Once in the kitchen, Gemma started on making a special hangover cocktail for the guest who still did not tell her his name. Oh well. Some people were just mysterious like that.

"Better not look" she grinned, mixing several ingredients "You don't wanna know what's in it."

Once it was finished, it looked dark greenish-brown, and smelled... well, it didn't smell pleasant, let's just leave it at that.

"Just drink it" she suggested, setting the cup down in front of him "Don't breathe."

It was one of Mama's secrets: the cure for the common hangover. It tasted... it didn't taste like anything.

"So, you happen to be a mutant too, or is it just an accident that you ended up here?" she asked him, fishing a packet of ice out of the freezer and handing it to him. "For your face."

He trudged along after her, dead man walking. Every step was nauseating agony, threatening to remove his tender grasp on gravity. What little blood that seemed to be occupying his head seemed to be pounding away at his skull, eroding it like waves on a cliff-face. Soon, they made their way into a kitchen.

>>> "We have locked doors and other security measures...Somebody must have let you in. I'm going to need to talk to them about allowing drunk strangers into the school."

They entered the kitchen and Mat immediately placed himself on a tall stool, not willing to tempt fate any further. Gemma set about the room, making some vile looking brew. She must have noticed Mat's greening stare, smirked at him, and told him it would be best not to watch. When she was finished, she sat a glass of swampy, murky green muck in front of him. He stared at it in hypnotic revulsion, unable to take his eyes away. Wearily lifting the glass, Gemma advised him to drink it, and not breathe it in. Lifting the glass to his face, a wiff of the beverage assaulted his nostrils. His stomach gave one violent warning lurch, and Mat swiftly stood, placed his drink down and ran to the nearest sink.

And promptly emptied the mostly liquid contents of his stomach.

His knees buckled and Mat slumped to the ground, groaning and wiping the drool from his mouth. His eyes watered and he gasped for breath. Slowly regaining his strength, Mat pulled himself up and made his way back to the stool. Taking a deep breath, he wrinkled his nose, and drank the concoction as fast as possible. He felt it begin to settle in his stomach, slowly calming it down. He let out a belch and slumped forward onto the bench.

>>> "So, you happen to be a mutant too, or is it just an accident that you ended up here?"

Mat slowly lifted his head to look at the woman. “I am, but as far as I'm aware my being here is pure coinky dink. I'd never even heard of the place until I woke up here a few minutes ago.” She handed him a packet of ice and he thanked her as he took it and placed it on his face. The numbing cold was soothing against the throbbing pain in his face.

“So what, you guys just take in mutant kiddies from all over the place? Keep 'em safe? Teach them how to be good little mutants?”

Gemma sat and waited while the boy threw up and then returned to the table to finish his drink. She was not amused. Not like she did not know what being hung over meant. Still. She was the matron here, and he was throwing up in the sink.
And he was a mutant.
Good thing it was him throwing up in the sink and not that kid with the acid saliva.

>>“I am, but as far as I'm aware my being here is pure coinky dink. I'd never even heard of the place until I woke up here a few minutes ago. So what, you guys just take in mutant kiddies from all over the place? Keep 'em safe? Teach them how to be good little mutants?”

"Yes, but only after we sober them up" she answered with a smirk, looking at him. She allowed him some time till his stomach settled and the ice numbed the pain in his head. A bit, at least.

"So, here are my questions" she smiled cheerfully "Your name, your mutation, and in general, what you are doing when you are not out waking up in strange houses."

>>> "Yes, but only after we sober them up"

Mat didn't like the woman's tone. It held all of her displeasure, her unhappiness in his general being here. It wasn't like it was his fault he got drunk and somehow ended up in some strange mutant mansion school. If you can't remember it, it never happened, right?

The room went quiet and filled with tension. At this point, Mat wanted to die. A lecture was the last thing he wanted at this moment, but he felt it was soon coming. It was bad enough his body was rejecting itself.

>>> "So, here are my questions...Your name, your mutation, and in general, what you are doing when you are not out waking up in strange houses."

She said it all friendly like, but Mat knew better. He had the infinite wisdom of a being a hung over, belligerent drunk. It was a trap, to lure him into the lurking lecture. He debated lying to her, creating a false identity. Still, the rebellious part of him wanted to tell her everything. Every sordid detail, to let her soak it in.

“Mat. I can magically walk through doors when no-one's watching. And other than crashing strange houses, I sleep in abandoned places and sell thing on the street.”

He settled for a mix batch of truth and lies.

He slumped forward on the counter again, and banged his hand on the surface as though in pain, which wasn't too hard to fake. Figured it would be best to get a diversion ready, just in case. Except he couldn't feel the connection, couldn't feel part of himself enter the stone. Luckily, with his face buried in the counter-top, Gemma coudn't see his puzzled expression.

“You know,” he mumbled, “I resent getting the blame for all this. I didn't ask to come here. I've seen what happens when you get too many mutants living together. Trust me, it's not pretty.”

Okay, he hadn't meant to say that. He was still half drunk, fully hung over, and this woman was getting on his case.

It was enough to drive a man to drink.

Andrew had already checked the living room for his 'prize' from the night before. There was a distinct lack of a certain mutant that was bound to be hungover. Now he had to search the whole mansion for the man. Thankfully about two feet down the corridor to the next room one he ran into a small bunch of the school kids talking about the drunk guy on the sofa that Mama had taken to the kitchen. Andrew winced when he heard that. The man was probably hungover and having trouble remembering the previous night. He wouldn't wish Gemma on anyone in that condition or any other condition really. You had to be completely healthy and in a sound state of mind to handle Gemma Taylor.

So it was off to the kitchen. Andrew walked in right as Gemma had just finished quizzing Mat and Mat had given his answers. They were lies in all truth and Andrew smirked at Mat's idea that he could lie to the stern black woman.

"His name is Mat and his mutation lets him make golems. I don't know much more than that Gemma. He didn't really tell me any specifics last night."

Andrew smiled brightly at the two of them. He was in a much better mood this morning and was actually rather amused by what he'd seen of Mat's reaction to Gemma.

"I brought him here after he managed to bring a mob down on our heads. I figured it was better to bring him here where he'd be safe than to dump him off somewhere else."

Wandering over to the counter, Andrew leaned against it. If he was going to take part in this conversation then he might as well be semi-comfortable. In fact, he could use a drink. Andrew relocated himself to the fridge where he pulled out the orange juice and poured himself a glass. Then he went back to leaning against the counter and smiling at the two of them.

>>“Mat. I can magically walk through doors when no-one's watching. And other than crashing strange houses, I sleep in abandoned places and sell thing on the street. You know, I resent getting the blame for all this. I didn't ask to come here. I've seen what happens when you get too many mutants living together. Trust me, it's not pretty.”

As for the first part, it was obviously not ture. Mama could tell as much right away. He said himself a couple of minutes ago that he had no idea how he got in; that meant he had no ability to rely on. Which meant, it was a poor attempt at a joke.
As for the rest, that might as well have been true.

"Well, whatever you know, it is not going to happen here." she announced. And that was that.

And then the cavalry arrived.

>>"His name is Mat and his mutation lets him make golems. I don't know much more than that Gemma. He didn't really tell me any specifics last night. I brought him here after he managed to bring a mob down on our heads. I figured it was better to bring him here where he'd be safe than to dump him off somewhere else."

Andrew arrived with a cheerful smile and a plausible explanation. He did not look hung over.

"You brought him here?" Gemma noted, not at all surprised. "Fair enough. But next time please dump him in one of the guest rooms. A few more minutes, and the kids would have been drawing all over his face."

She looked at Mat; he looked hug over. Still. She turned back to Andrew.

"Either of you care to elaborate on the mob story?..."

>>> "Well, whatever you know, it is not going to happen here."

There it was. What Mat had expected. That pride, that hubris, that arrogance. The feeling that you were untouchable, all because you were grouped with other people who could perform amazing feats. That, because you had powers that were superior to the things regular humans could do, there was no way that the non-powered could ever harm you or the ones you loved. That was how living in the commune had felt. That's how it seemed this Gemma woman felt. That they were all safe here, and that she had all the answers.

It made him sick, the way she dismissed him and what he said.

“Well, isn't that a relief,” he muttered bitterly and sarcastically under his breath.

>>> "His name is Mat and his mutation lets him make golems. I don't know much more than that Gemma. He didn't really tell me any specifics last night.”

Another voice joined the conversation. Not only that, it had the cheek to ruin the modicum of entertainment that may have sprung forth from Mat's petty lies. Mat swung around and came face to face with some guy he didn't recognise. Someone, who obviously felt like they deserved some say in this discussion. Some pretty boy.

Mat decided that he wasn't to be liked.

>>> “I brought him here after he managed to bring a mob down on our heads. I figured it was better to bring him here where he'd be safe than to dump him off somewhere else."

This guy? He was the one that brought Mat to the mansion? Mat stared at him a while, brows furrowed in concentration. “Mate, sorry to interrupt, but...who the f**k are you?”

Did he say something about a mob?

He couldn't remember a thing about this guy. All Mat knew was that he hated the smug look on this guy's face.

>>> "You brought him here? Fair enough. But next time please dump him in one of the guest rooms. A few more minutes, and the kids would have been drawing all over his face."

Now, they were speaking as though he wasn't actually sitting there, as if he were the family dog or something. Before, he had been annoyed. Now, he was actually getting angry. Gemma stood and glared every so often, while the new addition pottered around, poured himself a drink, and leant against the counter. Mat eyed him, making no effort to hide his current anger.

These two wanted to condemn him for his actions, whatever they may have been? Fine. For things these two didn't know about, or understand? That was fine too. Their mind's had been made up already. They may have thought that Mat owed them answers, that he owed them something for his waking up here.

Mat knew better. Mat owed nothing.

Reaching across the counter, Mat grabbed the newcomer's glass of orange juice. Taking a swig, Mat burped loudly, spat into the remaining juice and sat the glass back by the man's hand. A tiny smile finally began to tug at Mat's lips, his own little bit of spite cheering him up.

Small victories.

>>> “Either of you care to elaborate on the mob story?...”

“Y'know, lady, in case you haven't figured it out yet, I can't remember a f***in' thing about last night. So how 'bout you stop asking me what happened and ask pretty boy over there?”

Mat spat once more, onto the kitchen floor.

Small victories...

Mat was being nasty Andrew noted from his sarcastic tone and the way he'd asked who Andrew was. Andrew blinked and then looked at the man. Apparently he'd been so sloppy that he didn't remember anything, not even the portion of the evening where he'd approached sobriety. Putting the foul mood down to a hangover and waking up in a strange place with no recollection of what had happened the night previous Andrew answered his partner in last night's misadventure.

"Andrew Leroy. I tried to get you out of trouble last night but you were a bit too drunk to think straight. We ended up here after we escaped a group of irritated humans that didn't care for your singing or showing off your powers in the middle of the street."

He was going to leave it at that but apparently Mat wasn't finished being rude. He waltzed over, snatched the glass out of Andrew's hand, took a drink, burped, spat in it and then sat it down. Andrew tried to be reasonable. The man probably had a good excuse for being cranky. Then Mat was foul to Gemma and attempted to insult him. Just to cap things off Mat spat on the kitchen floor. Andrew's normally decent control was being stretched thin by so blatant a show of disregard to people who only wanted to help. Andrew rounded the counter until he came even with Mat.

One hand darted forward and twisted up in the front of the man's shirt and pulled him close enough that Andrew could probably lean forward and kiss him if he wanted to. That was the furthest thing from Andrew's mind though. With a stern glare in his eyes he told Mat exactly what he could do in a voice that held an undercurrent of anger.

"I know your hungover and probably feeling pretty ugly but that's no excuse to take it out on us. So simmer down."

That done Andrew released Mat's collar and put the counter back between them. It was more to keep himself from assaulting Mat than anything else. Realizing that he hadn't yet answered Gemma, Andrew expanded on what he'd told Mat.

"I found him outside a bar showing off with his powers and singing. The locals weren't looking too happy about it so I thought I'd try and get them to cool off while trying to get him out of there. He was a bit too drunk to take the hint and things escalated. One of the golems ended up punching a human and that's how the mob got started. We ran, managed to get to my car, and get back here with out too many more people injured. I called an ambulance for the guy that got punched by the golem since it sounded like his jaw had been broken."

>>“Mate, sorry to interrupt, but...who the f**k are you?... Y'know, lady, in case you haven't figured it out yet, I can't remember a f***in' thing about last night. So how 'bout you stop asking me what happened and ask pretty boy over there?”

Now the boy was getting grumpy. Gemma watched as he swore, and spat, and not a muscle moved on her face; but the look in her eyes said 'NOT AMUSED' in great, cleary readable capital letters. No stray boy, mutant or otherwise, was allowed to behave like that in her kitchen.
Storm clouds were rolling in.

>>"I know your hungover and probably feeling pretty ugly but that's no excuse to take it out on us. So simmer down."

Andrew seemed to be on the same opinion (he was a fast learner, and after his initial meetings with Gemma, he knew better than to leave it at that). Gemma watched as he rounded the table and proceeded to grab the guest by the shirt.

"It's okay, Andrew" she said in a dangerously calm voice "He is going to clean up."

It was not a threat; it was not a suggestion. It was a Fact with a capital F, a simple truth in life, sure as death and taxes. Those who throw up in the sink and spit on the floor SHALL clean it up. End of discussion.

>>"I found him outside a bar showing off with his powers and singing. The locals weren't looking too happy about it so I thought I'd try and get them to cool off while trying to get him out of there. He was a bit too drunk to take the hint and things escalated. One of the golems ended up punching a human and that's how the mob got started. We ran, managed to get to my car, and get back here with out too many more people injured. I called an ambulance for the guy that got punched by the golem since it sounded like his jaw had been broken."

"Nicely done, Andrew" she nodded "That was probably the best thing to do under the circumstances. I'll talk to Jorge later, find out what the police knows." it was always good to know what anti-mutant sentiments to expect after an incident like this.
Turning back to Mat, she tilted her head.

"There is no need to be rude." she told him "I know being surrounded by friendly people can be hard sometimes, but please try to deal with it. You are the one who ended up in our house, after all, and since you are without powers for now, we might as well have a chat."

Things seemed to be getting heated.

Apparently the newcomer, Mat heard him mention the name Andrew, didn't care for Mat's standoffishness. Mat figured as much when Andrew rounded the counter and grabbed Mat roughly by the shirt, pulling him close enough that, if Mat was in the mood to start taking the piss, he could lean forward and plant a kiss. He settled for a dry heave.

The pretty boy was stronger than he looked.

Some words were said, stern words. Grumpy words. Mat, despite his rising nausea, left the corners of his mouth curled, just that tiny bit, to show that he wasn't scared of this guy. Even though he could probably beat Mat up pretty well. Still, this was America right? If you can't make it, fake it, and all that.

>>> "It's okay, Andrew. He is going to clean up."

Andrew released Mat's shirt and made his way back around the counter.

>>> "I found him outside a bar showing off with his powers and singing. The locals weren't looking too happy about it so I thought I'd try and get them to cool off while trying to get him out of there. He was a bit too drunk to take the hint and things escalated. One of the golems ended up punching a human and that's how the mob got started. We ran, managed to get to my car, and get back here with out too many more people injured. I called an ambulance for the guy that got punched by the golem since it sounded like his jaw had been broken."

The floodgates opened, and the memories came rushing back in patchy torrents. A smirk creased Mat's face, now remembering what had happened. The song. The mob. The escape. “Oh yeah, that guy,” he chuckled.

>>> "Nicely done, Andrew. That was probably the best thing to do under the circumstances. I'll talk to Jorge later, find out what the police knows."

The chuckle and smirk were short lived. At the mention of the word 'police' Mat's stool was knocked to the floor with a loud clatter, as he dashed for the nearest window. Whatever this place was for mutants, whatever this place could have been for Mat, he wasn't going to stick around to find out. Not if they were just going to call the cops on him like that.

It disgusted him, how quickly they were willing to just turn him over to the humans. How quickly they would betray one of their own kind to those filthy animals...

Mat's sudden hatred towards the humans surprised even himself, then. Since when had he felt like that about humans? Must be the hang over...

He got to the window, climbed the kitchen bench in front of it, and began to try and pry it open. Before Mat's hung over fingers could work the complex mechanisms of a kitchen window, Andrew had grabbed hold of him and was dragging him back towards his seat. He shoved him into it, snarling something about, 'sitting and behaving, so help me...'

Mat glared his most venomous glare at the pair of them. Traitors. Traitors to their own kind. Why had Andrew brought him here? Just so he could be arrested?

“Believe it or not, I wasn't showing off,” he murmured. Not that he could convince them. He was a drunken homeless mutant in their eyes, after all. And violent and hostile to boot. How could they possibly understand how alone he sometimes felt? How, at times, his sculptures were all that he had. That his art was the only thing that kept him going. How could they understand, that the replicas were the only reminders of the people he had loved, and left?

>>> "There is no need to be rude. I know being surrounded by friendly people can be hard sometimes, but please try to deal with it. You are the one who ended up in our house, after all, and since you are without powers for now, we might as well have a chat."

Mat stared at Gemma, not saying a word, not moving an inch. Finally, after a long, tense wait, he slowly rose to his feet and walked towards the fridge. Pulling a glass from where he saw Andrew retrieve one earlier, Mat filled it with orange juice. With a dirty glare, he sat the fresh glass down in front of Andrew. Then he picked up the glass he had spat in, sat back on his stool, and drank the rest.

No point wasting it.

“My powers, that's your doing?” Mat asked Gemma. Andrew hadn't been around when he tried his powers, as far as he knew. And seeing as it was a mutant school, it stood to reason that there'd be mutant teachers. Or guidance counsellors...

“So, you friendly people who are surrounding me, chat away. Although, depending on how much you actually want to know, you might want to delay turning me in to the police.” This last statement was uttered with more than a little bitterness. Mat curled his top lip, and sucked some air through the gap in his front teeth. “Where do you keep your paper towels?”